


No Rest for the Just

by LaWren0



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Warning for potential emetophobia, my poor mage son needs a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaWren0/pseuds/LaWren0
Summary: Justice won't let him eat. Won't let him sleep. Won't let him be close to Hawke. Anders is so damn exhausted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I replayed Dragon Age II recently and romanced Anders again because the poor love needs someone to care for him okay? So I needed to write something to reflect that.  
> If you missed the tag there's a very brief mention of vomiting in the beginning.

 

Anders stops for just one moment, just to shove some stale bread into his mouth before continuing his work, but he barely swallows it down before the nausea kicks in. He has to run through the clinic and barely makes it to the banister along the huge open ‘windows’ of Darktown before he is retching, vomiting what little contents his stomach has left. He is swaying, shaking, almost leans too far over because his vision is blurred, but is pulled back by the very tail ends of his coat by stalwart, sturdy hands.

Varric looks on in pity and concern, but this is not an unusual, if particularly bad, case. The dwarf watches as the mage sits hard on the dusty ground stained by who knows what, and just breathes.

“You gonna be alright, Blondie?”

Anders can’t really respond. He is too busy fighting back further nausea. But more worryingly, he truly doesn’t know.

Varric makes the decision quickly, “You can’t work like this. Your patients will understand that their healer can get sick too. Let’s get you home.”

_Home?_ He is home. Anders doesn’t understand what Varric means until he remembers Hawke. She will want to see him.

At this thought, Justice unfurls in his mind again, rejecting the idea. She is a distraction. She is weak. We have no use for her.

But his body is in no shape to deny Varric’s help when the dwarf holds his torso firmly and encourages Anders to use him to pull himself up. It takes him a couple of tries.

“How long have you gone without sleep?” Varric asks, disapproval seeping into his tone just slightly.

Long enough that there are black spots dancing in his line of vision when he finally does stand. Justice has really done a number on him this time. Or was this his decision?

The mage is in a haze as he is half dragged to Hightown, right up to the door of the Hawke estate. Varric drops him off in the capable hands of Bodahn and Orana. He thinks Hawke is there – that might be her conversing quietly with Varric – but he is too far gone to be sure. His head is pounding, and Justice is angry. That’s all he ever seems to be, these days. Or is that him?

Anders tries to stand on his own to appease him, and almost succeeds before darkness almost takes over his vision again. He is caught by arms that are thinner, more sinewy than Varric’s, but still strong of their own volition. Hawke lowers them both to the floor gently, and his head stops spinning.

He’s not sure what he is expecting, but a soft ‘tsk’ and a sound of amusement is not it.

“You need to keep your weight up, love.” She admonishes lightly, “You can’t kill Templars effectively if you weigh less than a hundred and fifty pounds. You can’t fight if you’re this tired. You’ll get yourself killed, or hurt others by accident.”

“I know.” Anders is able to respond quietly. Justice knows this. He knows.

“Is Justice aware that a living host has to keep, you know, living, for this arrangement to work? Does he not know that living beings require sustenance?”

“Of course.”

“Then why is he denying you?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s being punished. He might have a few days ago, but he’s so out of it now he can’t remember.

You have given in to sloth!

Oh. Yes. That was it.

Hawke raises an eyebrow, like she can hear Justice too, “So taking care of yourself is for the weak now? Are spirits aware they can be so drastically and embarrassingly wrong?”

Justice seethes, but Anders smiles.

She draws him a bath while Orana makes a hearty broth. He has no energy, just getting up here took it out of him, so she washes him, gently and meticulously. He especially likes the attention she pays to his hands; scrubbing at the dirt under his fingernails, cleaning up the small cuts and scrapes over his knuckles and palms that seem to be ever present. She kisses his fingertips when she is finished. Languidly, he watches her concentrate on caring for him, and decides this is what it feels like to be loved.

In bed, he is given a shallow bowl to drink the broth from, and it tastes better than he could’ve imagined. Bizarrely, the more he eats, the hungrier he feels. He _whimpers_ when she takes the bowl out of his greedy hands.

“Not too much at once, love. You’ll make yourself sick again.”

He knows that she is right logically speaking, but his stomach roars, and he has to grit his teeth to avoid snapping at her. Anders pouts and beds down, turning his back to her like a juvenile child. Hawke struggles not to scoff or laugh. He knows she is not upset with him when he feels her hand on his bare back. When she starts to rub small circles there, he understands he is already forgiven. Her fingers distract him from the ringing in his head, and Justice is muffled. Mercifully, he is able to drift off.

Hawke leaves him, dead to the world, for a few hours before coming back. It pains her to rouse him from much needed rest - and Anders himself looks at her with half formed plans of murder in his eyes when she wakes him - but shoving more hot broth under his nose immediately appeases him. She lets him drink the whole bowl this time before he sleeps again. It goes on like that for a while. Eat, sleep. Eat, sleep. The fourth time in the cycle he asks her to lay down with him.

When Hawke returns to the land of the living, Anders is already awake, though he has not moved from her side.

“Hey.” She whispers, voice hoarse from sleep.

He smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “Hey. Thank you.”

She chases his mouth when he pulls back, and he grins.

“It seems like your energy is back up.” She observes, pretending to be offended, “I suppose it’s back to slaying Templars and neglecting your beautiful partner.”

It was meant to be a jest, having no real bite to it, but it was close enough to the truth that it doesn't quite pass that way. Anders pulls her closer, “You know, I don’t think I have the energy for that yet.”

Then his smirk turns wicked, “But I can think of some other things I have the energy for.”

As his hands wander, her laugh dissolves into giggles, then into soft sighs.

 


End file.
